The Destruction of Katniss Everdeen
by WitchyCloudpine
Summary: Haymitch's thoughts as he watches Katniss, and her attempt to hold herself together as the Capital slowly breaks her down. Centered from Catching Fire until the end of the series.
1. The Beginning

**So this is my first Hunger Games fanfiction, and I really hope you all enjoy it. I just had a thought about taking drabbles **_**from Haymitch's point of view**___**on the deterioration of his Mockingjay from "Catching Fire" to the end of "Mockingjay". Don't read if you haven't read all of the books, because I don't want to spoil a lot of the big moments for you! This is sort of a prologue or intro. While there is not much yet to review, if you like the idea and where it might be headed, please leave a comment!**

The Beginning

Everyone knew I hated the world. I hated what had become of the district I lived in. I hated what had become of me. I hated the Capital more than anything or anyone else I could think of for a million and one reasons: the Games, for destroying the person I was before I was reaped for the games, for the deaths of everyone I loved, for forcing me to send two children to death year after year. The Capital knew exactly how to break a person until they are damaged beyond repair. I know I can't be fixed, and I hate them for that too. And damnit, if I didn't hate my Mockingjay.

But Lord knows I love her. And, helplessly, I watched the Capital tear her apart.

It had started off small, a few minor scratches to her psyche. Nothing she, or any other tribute, hadn't had to handle. Taking another person's life, going in with the thought that she had to take Peeta's, these were minor in comparison of what was to come. Perhaps the most traumatic moment she had to face was the death of the little girl, Rue, but even that wasn't enough to make her crumble. She was strong. She reminded me of myself.

Sometimes I hated her for that.

Even after managing to make it out of the games alive with Peeta, she held onto her sanity. That was until she was faced with the realization of the spark of rebellion she had unknowingly caused. I watched her load burden after burden upon her shoulders: the safety of her family and friends, of Peeta, Gale, and even myself, the effort in which to prove to the districts and the Capital that what she and Peeta did in the arena was out of love, to prove to President Snow that she could make things right in Panem.

And then came the first crack in Katniss Everdeen. Her failure.

I watched her carefully as she put the guilt from the deaths that occurred in District 11 on her shoulders, along with the knowledge that even marriage was not enough for Snow. I seethed at Katniss's very nature, her will to carry the world's problems alone, and I drank to contain my rage at what the Capital was continuing to put us all through even after the Games had ended.

While I knew she would have to face many years of sending more children to their deaths, just like I had, and that no therapy could ever erase the pain that came with that, I believed that she was safe. But she wasn't, thus triggering the irreversible and utter destruction of Katniss Everdeen.


	2. Fractures

**Feel free to leave your thoughts and comments in the reviews! I'd love to read them.**

Fractures

_3__rd__ Quarter Quell Announcement_

I clutched the bottle to me as if it were my only lifeline. It was still cool to the touch, but its contents burned through my entire body. I felt hollow, as if the only thing remotely alive in me was the alcohol that dulled the pain in my head and heart.

The boy had already come to see me. He no longer begged for me to help him, but demanded that he go back to the arena instead. He had prattled on a list of reasons: physical fitness, my reliance on the bottle, the friends I've known for years that I would have to kill in order to save her.

I took another swig.

None of it matters anyway. Whoever's name gets pulled first knows the other man will volunteer right away. I'll save them both if I can.

Another long drink.

Damn her to hell for being so selfish. That boy cares more about her that his own damn life, and she can barely look past her own fears. Well, we all have fears, and I'll be damned if she's the only one who get's to wallow in self-pity.

The bottle clinks that it is empty, and with a yell I toss it hard against the opposite wall. It shatters into pieces. Just like the rest of my world. I grab another, preparing myself for when she finally pulls herself together to see me. I know she will, because we are too much alike, and I know exactly how she thinks.

It's another hour at least before she arrives, and by that time I'm drunk, sad, and angry. I could give a fuck how she feels right then.

I see her wander into the kitchen, looking lost and frightened. One of her hands was bleeding, but she doesn't even glance at it. I grip my knife tightly in my hand, reminding myself that I have just as right to be as pissed and frightened as she does. That this was not just about her.

"Ah, there she is," I say sardonically. "All tuckered out. Finally did the math, did you, sweetheart? Worked out you won't be going in alone? And now you're here to ask me...what?"

Katniss winces but says nothing. She stares around the room, as if trying to find an answer to her question. She wraps her arms around her stomach tightly, digging her nails into her ribs. I watch her try to keep herself together, but by that time I've stopped caring.

I take another gulp, watching her shiver in the chill from the wind. "I'll admit, it was easier for the boy. He was here before I could snap the seal on a bottle. Begging me for another chance to go in. But what can _you_ say?" My voice slices into her, and I silently relish the fact that I can hurt somebody, _anybody_, for this unfair torture that has fallen on me. On us. Her nails dig harder into her skin. There are sure to be bruises in the morning.

'Take his place, Haymitch, because all things being equal, I'd rather _Peeta_ had a crack at the rest of his life than _you_?'" I put on a high-pitched voice, mocking her while she struggles to find something to say.

However, she surprises me. As if realizing there was nothing left to do, she pulls herself together with a shake of her head and says, "I came for a drink."

I start to laugh. It's too much. She's already given up, just like I have. How similar we must be if this is where she finds herself, wanting to escape into the bottle. I want to hit her for giving up so soon, but I pass her the bottle with a laugh as she sits. She's still hunched over, holding the fracturing pieces of herself together, but I watch as the alcohol slowly seals over those cracks.

She took a few more hurtful comments I threw at her: Peeta thinking about her before himself, actually _wanting_ to go in to protect her. How she needed to know that she would never _ever_ deserve him. She takes them all, denying nothing. I watch as the alcohol slowly begins to numb her as well. Her grip begins to loosen on her ribs.

Then she snaps me out of my drunken, pissed off state of mind by asking me one thing. "If it is Peeta and me in the Games, this time we try to keep _him_ alive."

My grip tightens on the knife in my hand, and my jaw clenches. Unknowingly, Katniss has dished all the pain I had been giving her tonight right back.

Damn her.

_The Train_

My heart nearly lodges itself in my throat when a scream shatters through the night. For a second I think that it might have been part of my dream, but then I realize tonight I wasn't tortured by the images of the past. The Capital's wine had done a good job numbing my brain tonight.

Another scream slices through the silence of the night.

I jump out of the chair that I had deposited myself in before I passed out, and yank open the door to the hall. I pad lightly down the corridor, and am about to completely turn the corner when I catch sight of a figure out of the corner of my eye. I pull back, using only my head to peer around the corner.

Katniss is standing in the doorway of her chamber. Her body is leaning against the frame for support, and she is clutching the handle of her door as if it were her lifeline. Her breathing is coming shaky pants, as if she had been running or crying for an extended amount of time.

My heart constricted in my chest. I knew what those nightmares were like. It was no shock to anyone that they were why I turned to the bottle in the first place. Watching Katniss trying to pull herself together in that doorway caused the faces of so many long gone to flash in front of my eyes.

I watched as a small chill ran up her spine, and looked at her robe as if she just realized it was there. Offering a small amount of protection, she pulls it tightly around her and makes her way in the opposite direction down the hall.

I watch her turn the corner towards the television room, and considered turning back to my own compartment. I was unfit to offer any sense of comfort. How could I console a girl who was barely keeping herself from breaking down, when I can't keep the same horrifying nightmares away myself? What could I possibly have to offer her at this time?

And then I remembered how similar the two of us were. Her focus would be on Peeta's survival. If there were anything I could offer them that could distract and soothe their troubled minds, it would be advice on how to stay alive. Review some more tapes with them. Peeta was probably still in the television room anyway.

First, however, I'd need another drink.


	3. Cracks

**Another chapter done! Let me know your thoughts in the reviews. I love reading them. **

Cracks

_The Countdown_

I sit anxiously in the control room along with the rest of the mentors from the different districts, Plutarch, and two peacekeepers. I prayed no more would show, otherwise I'd have one hell of a difficult time keeping this plan together. It felt as if I were sitting on a seat of pins and needles, trying to keep from looking suspicious, but knowing that as soon as those tubes opened and the tributes rose, the plan would be put into action.

I had no idea how I became in charge of this. How I became the one, apart from Plutarch, that everyone relied on. It wasn't just my tributes I was saving this year, but every single person that I cared about. If it weren't for that fact that I knew what Katniss had unknowingly started, I would have said that I was the Capital's target. Watching everyone I love about to die…again.

There was no alcohol allowed in the room, so I took to pacing the floor in a horseshoe pattern as a distraction. I would loop around the back of the room, stop in front of one of the screens that, at the moment, were circling the empty arena, and then loop back. They seemed to be taking their sweet time starting the competition this year.

Everyone was counting on me.

The cameras zoomed towards different tubes situated in the water around the island. There was music playing over whatever sounds were happening in the arena, as the plates holding all the tributes, all my friends, began to rise.

The first plate that the camera focused on was Finnick's. His bronze colored hair swayed in the slight breeze, and was followed by his golden skin and brilliant eyes. The camera was instinctively drawn to him. His eyes were dangerous and watchful, scanning every bit of the arena as the countdown began.

Next the camera flicked to Peeta, whose first reaction is to scan the other plates until he finds the one he is looking for. The camera follows his gaze to her.

_Katniss._ She was staring determinedly ahead, but her thoughts were elsewhere. Her jaw was clenched tightly, and her back was as stiff as board. The cameras seemed to purposefully zoom onto here, taking in her frantic red eyes, the pulse jumping in her throat, and the tension in her shoulders. As the camera shot moved down the length of her body, it captured the sight of her torn and bleeding knuckles and the rawness on the rest of her hands. A drop of blood was slowly winding its way down her index finger. I prayed to god it would land on the tub and not in the water in front of her.

Then, the camera moved on to another tribute. Obviously it had had enough of the girl on fire. She had seen what they had wanted her to see.

_Fucking bastards. _I put my head in my hands, listening to the countdown. There were twenty seconds left.

I had an idea of what Katniss had seen, and knew that Cinna would not be making the trip out of the Capital. He had known the danger of him going down to the launch room today. I had demanded, even begged, for him not to go. The rebellion needed him, and Katniss surely needed him as well. She responded to no one better.

But Cinna knew. He had known that he signed his death sentence the moment that wedding dress was consumed with feathers. One of the last things he said to me was, "I turned her into the Mockingjay. I will stay with her, until the very end."

My throat burned, and I wished I had some of Ripper's liquor to numb the pain. The countdown wasn't even over and we already had lost someone. I knew, without a doubt, that these were going to be the worst games I would ever be forced to watch.

The camera did one more sweep of the tributes, before settling on Katniss and one of the morphling addicts. Katniss's blood dripped onto the plate she stood on, it's drops falling to the ground in time with the last few seconds of the countdown.

_Three. Two. One._

_The Jabberjays_

This was agonizing.

I clenched the armrests of the chair I was in, praying for the time to pass faster. Katniss was curled in a ball; her hands clamped over her ears, just waiting for it all to be over.

So was I. I had kept myself busy with sponsors and staying organized during most of the Games, while Plutarch was busy with the rest of the preparations. Now, all I could do was wait. And watch.

Finnick was hardly doing any better. Almost immediately he had curled up and started rocking in the fetal position. I recognized the high-pitched sound of Annie Cresta, and understood the suffering that he was going through.

I felt bile rise up my throat as I watched Katniss shake at the sound of her mother's screams. She seemed to be swallowing down the wails that threatened to escape from her.

Gale's voice joined in with her mother's.

It was as if I could see literal cracks forming on her body. The mental torture was worse than any physical pain they had given her yet. I pulled at my hair, feeling helpless. I could supply her with allies. I could send her food and tools for water. But _this?_ This I could not prepare her for.

I watched as Prim's shrieks drew an agonized moan from her lips. The cracks spread along her body, threatening to destroy her. The cameras shot to Peeta and Johanna for a few seconds, pounding on the wall. Peeta was almost as much of a wreck as Katniss and Finnick, pained by the torture Katniss was lost in.

I was surprised to hear my own voice join in the chaos, and Katniss curled up farther in on herself, whimpering. I don't even think she realized the sounds she was emitting.

"Damnit, Katniss." I whispered. I wanted her to pull herself together; to realize that these screams were warped, and that her family and friends were safe. Probably.

It seemed that the men in charge of the cameras and the viewers in the Capital got bored because the screens suddenly switched to watching Enobaria, who was on the hunt. Apparently, the complete mental breakdown of two tributes wasn't interesting enough to the people of Panem, but I was thankful for the change. There was still 25 minutes left until Katniss and Finnick could escape, and I don't think I could take another second.

The need for a strong swallow of Ripper's burning liquor coursed through me again, but I swallowed hard. There were worse pains to suffer through.


	4. The Dark Days

**I know it has been a while, but I was consumed with the two other stories I am writing on here. However, yesterday day was my birthday, and my gift to you is a new chapter! I hope you like it. ****Please Review!**

_**Big thank you to MarbleSharp for notifying me that Haymitch was in seclusion during the time Katniss went to 12. I don't have my books with me up here at college, so thank you for catching that error. I've now rewritten the second half of this chapter.** _

The Dark Days

_Lost_

We lost our Mockingjay. I should have known this would have been too much. She didn't ask to be the face of the rebellion, nor did she ask to be thrust into the Games in the first place.

She had just wanted to survive.

It was almost sad that the last fight she had to give was against me.

Katniss had burst through the door of the control room wearing nothing but a hospital gown and a wild look in her eye. She held a syringe, looking as if she was ready to take on the world.

It was almost comical. I had grabbed her and forced her to drop it, though, before she hurt anyone on accident. Plutarch looked as if the force I used was a little excessive, but he didn't realize that he was dealing with a rabid animal, one that had just been plucked from the Games without a clue as to what was going on around her.

So yeah, that little needle was lethal.

I also knew that, eventually, she would find out about Peeta, and when she did she would be livid.

However, I was not prepared for her attack when it did come. I knew how angry and hurt she would be, but I had not expected _this_ from the girl who had guarded her feelings since the moment I met her.

"You drunken piece of _shit_," She had screamed at me. "You _promised_ you would save him!"

It was almost as if she couldn't find the words at that moment that she wanted to say to me. A strangled noise clawed its way up her throat, and I saw her fists clench. However, while I'll admit I was slightly surprised when she launched herself at my face, I felt I was more than a match for the frail little tribute.

I had forgotten about her nails.

She clawed my face, spitting every curse she could think of. I was so pissed off, I honestly can't even remember what I said. I just thought of the most hurtful words I could think of and hurled them at her without a second thought.

"_Why didn't you just let me die?_" She had spit at me.

"I fucking wanted to." I roared. "God knows Peeta would have been a hell of a lot more useful than you."

I cringe now as I remember those hateful things I said. I had sat by her bedside after she was dragged out from the room and strapped to her hospital bed. I watched as she tried to force herself into unconsciousness by banging her head against the rails.

It's depressing to know that that was the last real fight Katniss gave. I honestly don't know if there is anything that will snap her out of the depression she is in now.

Coin complains constantly about her not sticking to her schedule. I could give a rat's ass about that. What worried me now was finding her under drainpipes, in closets, and under desks in deserted offices. She is unresponsive; wallowing in self-pity and loathing while she is awake only to escape into a morphling induced coma at night.

Coin worries about rallying the people. Plutarch worries about the Mockingjay's image.

I worry that we might have broken the girl from the Seam.

_District Twelve_

That girl made me eat my words. It seems she has a little spark left in her after all.

I heard about her visit to District 12, or at least what was left of it. I didn't envy her going back at all. No amount of drugs or liquor in the world could make me want to go back right now. I knew what she would find. I knew of the devastation, and how the Seam was completely obliterated. Not many had made it out alive, and I knew there would be countless decomposing bodies for Katniss to stumble on.

Plutarch had been the one to fill me in on what had happened. He skimmed over most of what happened when she first arrived, claiming that his Mockingjay was rather "unresponsive" and "couldn't quite deliver the footage that they wanted" at the time. She had been "off in her own world", according to Plutarch.

"No doubt she was in complete shock," he had said. "But you'd think she'd get a little emotional over the whole ordeal."

The average person might find it hard not to be irritated with Plutarch. He was from the Capitol after all, and, not to mention, he was trying to help lead a revolution. He needed a Mockingjay, one way or another.

I was not the average person, and it took every ounce of control I had in my body not to wipe that frustrated expression off his face.

Plutarch, however, could not stop raving about her "performance" in the woods.

"Absolutely marvelous! I don't know where she comes up with this stuff!" He praised.

I had heard the "Hanging Tree" before, a long time ago. It had been banned as long as I could remember, as it had been one of the anthems of the First Rebellion. Katniss had no idea what significance that song meant to millions and the effect it was going to have on the Capitol. It was an invitation to revolution, an outright declaration of risking death for freedom.

Plutarch could not shut up about it. He got the footage he wanted. It seemed we might get our Mockingjay after all.


	5. Broken

**Thank you all for the reviews that you have posted, as well as the alerts and favorites. Can't tell you how much I appreciate. Please continue to leave messages! It really inspires me to continue writing. **

Broken

_The Bombing of Thirteen_

I saw it coming from a mile away.

It was the moment Peeta's blood sprayed across the tiled floor in the Capitol that I saw the first major crack in Katniss Everdeen. I didn't want to admit it to anyone in the control at the time, but my heart clenched so tightly at the sight on screen that I thought I was having a heart attack.

It then caught my attention when she was escorted into the control room after the bombings. Everyone had been distracted and in need of coffee, but I saw her fingers – red and raw. I had seen the same symptoms on Finnick, but I held my tongue. It had to wait. There were more important matters at hand.

Then came the roses. God, it was like a bolt of lightening had struck her. The effect these roses had on her were astronomical. She didn't move. I wasn't even sure she was breathing. She just stared, and I swore I could see her unraveling right in front of my eyes but I was helpless to stop it.

I watched as she struggled to breathe, and her eyes darted to and fro, completely unfocused. I could see her body shaking from where I stood, and it struck me at just how much we have put her through. She was beginning to look as frail as she was when she was younger, struggling to feed her family and herself. She attempted to swallow multiple times, and her body was trembling so much that I was surprised she was still standing. She was trying so hard to compose herself, to focus on the task at hand…

But the dam broke, the floodgates opened, and Katniss Everdeen shattered into a million pieces.

Crying doesn't even begin to describe the noises she emitted. The most painful wails echoed in the clearing, silencing every creature that was in the vicinity. Katniss collapsed onto the ground, her body wracked with sobs.

She cried out my name in the most pitiful voice I had heard, reaching out for some form of support.

I pulled her close to me, murmuring into her ear to calm her as much as I could. "It's okay. It'll be okay, sweetheart."

Her words were hard to make out, but I managed to hear her small voice say, "I can't do this anymore."

"I know."

"All I can think of is—what he's going to do to Peeta—because I'm the Mockingjay!" She was gasping for air, trying to calm her heart rate and steady her breathing. It wasn't working.

I can't think of any words of comfort. That was usually Peeta's job. All I can do is wrap her tightly in my arms and say, "I know."

Her breathing becomes more erratic as she tries to get the words out of her mouth. "Did you see? How weird he acted? What are they—doing to him? It's my fault!"

And then she was done. Our Mockingjay – broken. Her cries became a cross between a sob and a scream, and all the life drained out of her body. I refused to stumble from the sudden weight, and tried to hold her in a position that's comfortable for her.

I don't think she would have even noticed.

To add to the hysteria, Finnick broke down as well. The strain of knowing the torture Annie was going through was too much for him as well. I felt terrible that we had been friends for so long and through so much, but I could not take my attention away from my tribute. Despite being out of the arena, I still felt responsible for her.

Now she was broken.

Cressida took to comforting Finnick while Boggs injected him with a sedative. Katniss was soon injected after. Her cries quieted, and I sensed her slipping away from reality.

I've been sitting in the infirmary for the past eight hours, watching her just to make sure she continued breathing. I have heard of people dying because they lost the will to live, and I wasn't sure just how unhinged our Mockingjay was yet.

I didn't even flinch when someone placed a bowl of broth next to me, nor did I when they took it away, untouched. My entire body felt exhausted and heavy, as if I was bearing some guilt or weight on my shoulders that I couldn't quite shake.

Was it my fault Katniss suffered so much? Was I requiring too much of her? Could I even lift the weight off her shoulders if I wanted to?

"Haymitch."

When I didn't turn to face Coin, she asked briskly, "How is she?"

"Peachy." I said shortly.

She continued in a curt voice, "We've assembled a team to infiltrate and recover Peeta and the rest of the…prisoners." I could sense her disapproval of having Enobaria being a part of this rescue mission.

"Boggs, Hawthorne, Jackson, Homes, Cassus, Eberline, and Muskovy have volunteered for the mission."

I nodded my head to show I heard correctly.

"You will not be coming." She stated bluntly. "You are unfit for duty."

I couldn't resist a snort. I don't think I could have gotten out of this chair, much less into the Capitol.

She left momentarily after that. We didn't have much to say to each other.

When Katniss woke up, I worked hard to keep things positive and evade the topic of the rescue mission. It worked its way out anyway, though. However, I was shocked by her reaction.

"Please, Haymitch!" She begged. "I have to do something. I can't just sit here waiting to hear if they died. There must be something I can do!"

In spite of everything that had happened, there was still a bit of the girl on fire buried deep in there. Who was I to deny her?

"Alright, I'll see what I can do. Let me talk to Plutarch." I pointed a finger at her. "You, stay put."

_Peeta_

"I can't stay here anymore," Katniss says. "If you want me to be the Mockingjay, you'll have to send me away."

We were outside the hospital. Delly had just left Peeta, who was still screaming inside the room.

We had all been surprised by Peeta's condition. None of us had expected it. I was just thankful Boggs had reached her in time to stop any permanent damages from happening.

Nonetheless, it was hard to look her in the eyes without seeing the ring of bruises around her neck and thinking it was somehow my fault.

I never expected this of Snow, although the man had always been very skilled when it came to torture. This torture wasn't just to destroy Peeta. This one was aimed at Katniss, and it worked all too well.

"Where do you want to go?" I ask her tonelessly.

There was an eerie calmness to Katniss now, as if her mind had cleared of all the chaos and pain that she had been suffering from for weeks and a strange emptiness took its place.

"The Capitol." She replies automatically. As if that would ever happen.

"Can't do it," Plutarch says. "Not until all the districts are secure. Good news is, the fighting's almost over in all of them but Two. It's a tough nut to crack, though."

I give him a sharp look. I'm not sure if I should trust this state Katniss was in. This was just one more blow for her to deal with. Then again, I doubted she would be any safer or saner here.

She relents, "Fine. Send me to Two."


	6. Destroyed

**Thanks for your patience! I know it's been awhile since I updated. I hope you all like Haymitch's progression. While he may not show his feelings all the time, I feel that the closer he gets with Katniss and the more he watches her lose in life, the more he grows to care for her.**

**Side note: I saw the Hunger Games movie last night. In my opinion, they did an amazing job. What was your opinion? Leave your thoughts on the movie and on this chapter in the reviews! Also, I don't have my copy of the book with me up here at school, so if I have made a mistake let me know so I can fix it!**

Destroyed

_Peeta in the Capitol_

Had I been wrong? I didn't even know anymore.

Sure, I had been furious when I found out Coin sent Peeta to District 2. We all knew the reason she did it, although nobody voiced it out loud. Katniss and Coin had always had a shaky relationship, and she finally realized what a threat the Mockingjay was.

When I last spoke to Katniss had I been too harsh?

"You're punishing him over and over for things that are out of his control. Now I'm not saying that you shouldn't have a fully loaded weapon next to you round the clock. But I think it's time you flipped this little scenario around in your head. If you'd been taken by the Capitol, and hijacked, and then tried to kill Peeta, is this the way he would be treating you?"

I believe in what I said. Peeta would never alienate Katniss if the tables had been turned.

But had we all truly understood what state Peeta was in? Had we really comprehended how dangerous he was and what damage he could cause?

I watched the footage the Capitol kept replaying. We no longer had any contact with our Mockingjay or the rest of her team. I knew she was still alive merely because Snow himself was still alive, and Katniss would undoubtedly refuse to die until he was dead alongside her.

But had I been wrong to give her the idea to be gentle with Peeta? Was I somehow at fault?

_Explosions_

I can't bear to watch the footage anymore. We had all seen it. Children lying everywhere, body parts flying in every direction.

Primrose Everdeen catching fire.

And I watched as her sister burned with her.

Katniss hadn't been close enough to save her sister, but I saw her body catch on fire. I watched as she screamed with her sister's name on her lips.

Our war. This was the end of it. Snow was surrounded. The Capitol was overrun. And yet, I couldn't get the image of the girl from the Seam screaming for the sister who had exploded in front of her eyes.

The medics were doing all that they could. I had gotten to her as fast as I was able, and even I was having trouble holding back the bile that threatened to rise up my throat. While most of her face was saved, chunks of her hair had burned away and her body was a mess. As the medics cut the torn remnants of her clothes away from her charred skin, I felt myself gag. Pieces of burnt flesh tore away as if they were scraps of tissue paper. The sizzling smell of burnt meat was clogging my throat.

She had wanted no part in this war for so long. And now she had lost everything. Her home, Peeta, her sister, her body, her mind. All gone.

A strange strangled noise escaped my throat, alerting a medic of my unwelcome presence.

I left without arguing. I was pathetic.

_Mute_

Katniss no longer speaks. The spark that set her aflame has figuratively burned away her voice as well.

I'll see her from time to time wandering through hallways, a faraway look in her eyes. Her skin is patchy and raw, and it hurts me to look at her. There is a permanent cut in my cheek where I bite back words that I want to say to her.

There are no words for this.

I wonder if she's even in there anymore. I don't know if I blame her.

Like I've said before. This war, these past two years, have taken everything away from her.

Peeta still lies in the burn unit. Apparently he had made it to the City Center. Once again he had gotten too close to the girl on fire, and caught fire as well.

I'm fairly certain they don't think it's safe to let him out on his own. The last footage they had seen of him was causing the death of so many rebels in Capitol. The last thing they wanted was for him to run into Katniss while she was in such a frail state.

My mind drifts back to the footage of the explosions without my permission. I see her grey eyes on the screen, a sign of someone from the Seam, wide open in agony.

I shut my eyes tightly, and give a harsh cough. I need a drink.

_The Decision_

Whatever had broken her silence, whatever it was that she needed to ask me about but I had been too drunk to respond, I will never know.

I hadn't expected this, but here it was. It was practically delivered to us on a shining silver platter. The opportunity to force those who have tortured us for years to feel the pain we have. A final Hunger Games.

It was a moment I had thought about countless times: what I would do if I were presented with this opportunity. Hadn't I suffered enough? Shouldn't they feel what each district has felt for years? The helplessness of sending children off to fight in conditions they were most likely unprepared for. The pain of having to watch them slaughtered like animals on television. The guilt and shame in being unable to do anything about that. The horror in watching what the victors become after they leave the arena. The mourning families and friends. Over and over again. Was it wrong for me to whole-heartedly wish it on nameless children in this godforsaken place because of the injustice the cheered on year after year?

I could still feel the scars the Capitol had inflicted on me – some in plain sight, others buried beneath layers of emotional trauma. No matter how hard I scrubbed, no matter how much I drank to numb myself, it would never really go away.

My eyes focused on Katniss's hands, which were clenching and unclenching, still patchy and uneven. She'll be just as scarred as I am.

I barely registered what the others had said, but I heard her voice say softly but clearly, "I vote yes…for Prim."

We were so alike. I could almost smile at the thought. Perhaps our hearts were made of ice.

"I'm with the Mockingjay."

It felt almost like a sin to call her that. A title, forever shrouded in pain and suffering.

_Execution_

I watch Katniss, her eyes completely focused on the man who she has sworn to hate since the moment she entered the Hunger Games. Perhaps even before? I can't say I know for sure.

A weird feeling passes over me as I watch the Mockingjay stand on a spot so close to wear her sister went up in flames. I can barely see her face, but I know her brain is whizzing with some idea. I could practically see the wheels turning in her mind.

Whatever it was, her decision was made.

Suddenly Coin collapses over the balcony.

I watch as all hell breaks loose, and Katniss screams for Gale. Why? I could not say. The massive amount of people and guards that swallow everyone up forces me from my current position.

I'm her mentor. It has always been my job to watch out for her, to help her survive. It doesn't matter that we were out of the arena or District 13. As Cinna had said, "I turned her into the Mockingjay. I will stay with her, until the very end."


End file.
